Symphony No 2
by Aarri
Summary: Present-day AU; Austria/Hungary. When Elizaveta Heverdary signed up to play with her local orchestra, she had no idea what to expect. One new director and several slightly-insane orchestra members can answer that question for her. On hiatus until further notice.
1. Movement 1

Summary: Present-day AU; Austria/Hungary. When Elizaveta signed up to play with her community orchestra, she had no idea what to expect. The new director, Roderich, is only one of the unexpected things that she _did _expect, along with the other slightly-insane orchestra members. Her thoughts: how did she get mixed up in something like this?

**A/N:** **Wow, it's been a while.**

**I know, I know! I should be working on other things, but I haven't had the time. So, when I got the idea for this fanfic (at orchestra rehearsal the other night, no less), I had to write at least some of it down. I don't normally write AU, but it seemed too good to resist, so here's the (laaaame) attempt. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia, or any of the characters – Hidekaz Himaruya does. (Wah, I twisted them so badly…but I had to make Prussia just THAT rude, y'know? Hee.)**

Her hand felt slippery as Elizaveta Hverdary gripped the handle of her instrument case. Glancing at her watch, she bit back an exasperated sigh. Tonight was the first night of orchestra rehearsal, and she was determined not to be late as she walked quickly and surely down the sidewalk, nestled deep in the bustling city that she called home.

Trying not to run into too many people, she eventually found her way through the crowded urban streets to the building that housed the auditorium, where the local community orchestra was supposed to meet. Quite honestly, the Hungarian girl had not even half an idea of what to expect. The dark double-doors loomed in front of her as Elizaveta attempted to kick some of the slush off of her boots before heading inside, out of the frigid winter air. That was one thing about the city – there never really was _snow_, it was more of a malleable mixture of half-thawed ice and dirt.

Wondering how to introduce herself, as the other members of the orchestra (if there were any, that was, in which case she imagined herself as the only member onstage, squeaking out a solo, which she desperately wanted to avoid) were bound to know each other, the young woman was rather startled when she lost her balance, as another figure quite rudely shoved her aside.

"Hey watch –"

"What do you want?" Asked the stranger, in a rather bored voice. His scarlet eyes gleamed – _scarlet?_ was Elizaveta's only thought – as he regarded her, his rather tousled-looking silver hair falling in front of his face.

"I'm here for the rehearsal…" came the tentative response. The man (he looked rather young, in Elizaveta's opinion) waved a hand dismissively, and said, with the slightest hint of an accent, "Ah, yes. I thought so, though I don't know what you'd want with that bunch of losers."

Without another word, he narrowed his brilliantly colored eyes, and pulled the door open. As he was about to leave for the corridor that the Hungarian could see extending from the doorway, another voice took both of them somewhat by surprise.

"Gilbert!"

"What, what is it?" asked the person opposite her, whom Elizaveta now assumed was called Gilbert (in a relatively irked tone), leaning back against the large doors behind him. Striding towards them was another man, his brown hair parted and combed back neatly, save for a wild strand that stuck up on the right side of his hairline. His eyes (another strange one, these were _violet_, and Elizaveta wondered at that) flashed quite dangerously in her opinion, and he frowned at the newly-named Gilbert.

"What have you been doing, terrorizing this girl? That's no way for any man to behave," the dark-haired man sighed exasperatedly. "Anyway, why are you even here, Gilbert? I don't recall you particularly wanting to come and join our _ragtag _little ensemble, as you put it."

"Ludwig told me to tell you that he's sick, and won't be coming to rehearsal, _Roderich_," Gilbert said bluntly, emphasizing what Elizaveta assumed was the other's name. He settled for examining his nails now, looking thoroughly annoyed at being stuck out in the cold, and clearly talking to someone whom he had no intention of being the best of friends with.

"If that's all you're here for, then you should be on your way," Roderich said, frowning once more. Straightening up from where he leaned against the door, Gilbert gave no indication that he had heard, and instead began to slosh his way back from where he had come. Elizaveta, however, saw him look back as he made his way down the street, a flicker of what appeared to be regret cross his face before he turned his head away again, and disappeared into the bustling crowd once more.

"Are you all right?" asked Roderich, making the Hungarian girl jump slightly as he held out his hand to her politely. Grasping his hand, which was surprisingly warm, Elizaveta shook it firmly as he said, "I hope Gilbert didn't frighten you. He means well, it's just that he can be a bit…uncouth at times."

"N-not at all," she stammered, finally able to speak – though it was proving somewhat difficult, as her cluttered thoughts threatened to overwhelm her brain. They stood there for a moment or two, after which Elizaveta suggested, "Why…don't we head inside? It's bound to be warmer – plus I have the feeling that my violin would appreciate it much more than this weather."

At Roderich's nod, she attempted to open the door, but it proved to be slightly awkward because of her instrument case, and the taller man tutted at her actions.

"Why don't I…?" he offered, holding one of the two swinging doors open. Flushing, she nodded her thanks, and hurried inside, slinging her violin over her shoulder. After a brief pause, Roderich joined her, and they walked down the hall, an uneasy silence hanging between the two of them.

"So…you're the new violinist?" he asked casually, adjusting the glasses that framed his intense lilac eyes. At Elizaveta's nod, he continued, "I, well…I'm the new director. Since this is your first season with us, I don't expect that you will have heard…but after my predecessor retired, I was the only one in the orchestra with any conducting knowledge, and so I volunteered for the position."

The young woman was just about to ask what sort of instrument her companion played, but he beat her to it. "Piano," the dark-haired man explained, flexing his slender fingers and rubbing his hands together, as if to warm them. Elizaveta looked admiringly at him – all of his features seemed extremely elegant and refined in a way, from his high cheekbones and slim jawline to his gracefully proportioned features and slicked-back hair.

After lapsing into silence once more, they wandered down a few more doors, and Roderich stopped suddenly.

"We're here," he said simply, pulling a key from one of the pockets on his long winter coat. Wiggling it in the lock when it stuck, he eventually managed to turn it, and the solid gray door swung open with a click.


	2. Movement 2

**A/N: Sorry I didn't include this earlier. I hope you're all enjoying this fanfic so far…thank you so much for all of the lovely reviews! I know I'm having a lot of fun writing it, since I don't write Hetalia that often. Before I go on moaning about personalities and characteristics and the like, without further ado, here's chapter two. (Sorry it's so short, like the first…if I didn't have so much to do I would have written more, but this is all that came out.)**

Peering inside, Elizaveta took a good look around after following Roderich into what she presumed was the actual auditorium. Her first impression was one of musty smells and old-looking theater-style seats, their red velvet covers worn and many beyond repair.

Setting her instrument case down, the Hungarian took a good look about the place that she now found herself in. Although, as she found, there really wasn't all that much to see, save for a large expanse of what she was sure had once been a very grand room. However, it looked now as if someone had come in and spread cobwebs everywhere, and scattered dust on all of the surfaces. It certainly didn't look like somewhere she would expect to find an orchestra. That was for sure.

Seeing her confusion, Roderich smiled slightly. Elizaveta jumped slightly as he said, "I know it doesn't look like much, but it was used only lightly last season. With a little bit of cleaning, this place could look like new again."

Frowning, he turned to the stage, and murmured something to himself, looking a tad annoyed.

"Er, Mister Roderich…is there anything I can help you with?" the young woman asked tentatively, brushing off her hands and turning back toward him, her green eyes inquisitive.

"No, there's no need to trouble yourself," he replied, slowly ascending the short staircase that led onto the central part of the old auditorium's stage. "I only thought…perhaps, that things had already been set up for rehearsal. Apparently either I was very mistaken, or someone has made a grave communication error," the Austrian continued darkly, knowing very well whose red-eyed, smug-looking face to blame.

With a sigh, he turned on his bootheel, and began stacking chairs and music stands on the stage, frowning as he counted them off in pairs. Elizaveta watched curiously as the Austrian subsequently began to arrange them, stepping back and surveying his work as he neared completion. She was about to repeat her request to help, when Roderich smiled, and stepped off the stage.

"That should do it," he remarked, clapping his hands together. The noise was subtle, but echoed quite loudly in the empty auditorium. "I'm not sure how many we'll have tonight, so I put a few extra chairs out, just in case. You don't mind sharing a stand, do you?" he turned, his violet gaze resting lightly on the young woman before him.

Elizaveta shook her head, feeling somewhat transfixed by his eyes. She blinked, and looked down, not quite knowing what to say.

"That's good. I've got you as second chair, sharing with Angelique, whom you'll meet in a little while. She's a fairly good player, though a tad scatterbrained at times." At his slight disapproving tone, the Hungarian girl suppressed a laugh, though she didn't quite know why. It took a moment for his actual words to sink in, to which her expression grew slightly panicked.

"S-second…chair?" she asked, wondering if she had a choice between a mistake and a 'grave communication error' herself. _I'm all right…but not good enough for that!_

"Yes, second chair. Is there a problem, Miss Elizaveta?" Despite her worry, she noted his concerned expression, a bit baffled. They had just met, hadn't they? However, she put it out of her mind for the time being, and responded, "Well…it's just that…I normally don't…that is to say, I don't normally place very high in chairs. That…" she trailed off, looking slightly helpless.

"Ah. Well, if you wish, I could move you further back…but not tonight. Angelique and a few others are the only ones coming, and I'm fairly certain that Angelique's the only first violinist who will be attending."

"F-first violinist!" It wasn't a question now, more of a startled exclamation, Roderich thought, running a hand through his dark hair. No matter. Confidence issues were something that could be taken care of.

They lapsed into silence once more, Elizaveta feeling quite…well, she supposed she really didn't know how to feel about all of this. She was about to ask him something else, when a loud report from the entryway shook her out of her troubled thoughts.

"Yo! Roddy!"

Her head whipped around, only to find two blondes standing in the door through which she and Roderich had walked what seemed like a lifetime ago now. Could these two be other orchestra members…? Ah, of course. They were both carrying instrument cases themselves, so they must have been.

It appeared that the taller of the two was the one who had spoken, for the shorter one had a somewhat irked expression, and muttered what sounded like, "Use proper English, you git."

They drew closer, and Roderich smiled slightly. "Glad you two could make it." He turned his attention to Elizaveta, and said, "This is Alfred Jones," he gestured to the taller, "and Arthur Kirkland." When their names were mentioned, both gave a small wave, and Alfred bounded over.

"Wow, you've gotta be the new violinist, right? It's awesome you're here! Poor 'Chelles was gettin' all lonely by herself in the section, and –" he was cut off by a cuff on the shoulder by the other.

"Don't frighten her, Alfred. God knows you've got a tendency to do that…" he grumbled, and Elizaveta placed his accent as English. She was surprised, however, when he held out his hand, and took it gently.

"As Roderich mentioned, I'm Arthur Kirkland. It's a pleasure," he added, smiling. Privately, the Hungarian girl thought he looked much nicer when he did so, but kept the thought to herself.

"God, Arthur. You'll bore her to death if you keep that up," Alfred drawled, leaning back against the stage. "If you'd loosen up, you'd be much more likeable. You know that?"

"If, by likeable, you mean more like yourself, I think I'll pass," he shot back coolly, releasing Elizaveta's hand and slinging his instrument case into an empty auditorium seat.

"At least I can cook, unlike a certain someone I know," the American muttered under his breath, and Arthur stiffened.

"What was that, you wanker?" he said angrily, and stormed over to the taller man. While the two continued to squabble, Roderich looked uninterestedly at them, and the Hungarian girl glanced at the conductor nervously.

"A-aren't you…going to…stop them?"

"They're always like this," he said, as-a-matter-of-factly. "Once a few more people show up they're bound to stop. Oh, here they are now."

And sure enough, several other orchestra members trotted in the double-doorway, instruments slung over their shoulders or dragging behind them, and bringing a cloud of noisy chatter with them.

_Oh dear,_ was Elizaveta's only thought.


	3. Movement 3

**A/N: Short Aarri Note is short…or trying to be. Sorry for the lack of updating! I forgot to say this earlier, but keep an eye out for other pairings. A few possible ones that might crop up would be: USUK, GerIta and maybe even a little Spamano. (I can't help myself…) What do you guys think? It wouldn't be anything major, just a few possible lines here and there hinting at stuff. If anyone has a problem with any slight hints at yaoi, just send me a message or something and I'll make a note not to include it. I'll try my best! ;u;**

Soon enough, the dingy hall was filled with the sounds of instruments tuning. While still dingy, it held a certain life now that it hadn't before, Elizaveta thought. She tried to avoid meeting anyone's gaze, and was thoroughly relieved when Roderich handed her a few pieces of sheet music.

"Am I to assume that…these are what we'll be playing?" she murmured, leafing through the pages. Some were quite long, especially…what was it titled? Ah, Symphony –

"Yes, quite," Roderich responded, before she had a chance to ask. However, he saw her curiosity, and smiled. "Symphony Number Two, Miss Elizaveta. It's a Howard Hanson composition from the early twentieth century, also known as his 'Romantic Symphony'. Not to mention a personal favorite of mine," he added, his long fingers laced together around his conductor's wand.

He smiled, then, and said, "I think you'll do fine with these," and moved on to talk to the other orchestra members. Slightly flushed, Elizaveta watched him walk away in a daze, not hearing the flurry of footsteps behind her. With a start, she realized that everyone was assuming their seats, and hurriedly swept the sheet music off of her case to unpack her instrument.

Burnished golden-red gleamed as the Hungarian girl's dull black case slowly creaked open. She ran her hands over the violin, the wood surprisingly soft under her touch, and gently lifted it out of the padded form that usually held it in place. Wincing as she plucked the strings quietly, hearing discord echo from the hollow chamber beneath the bridge and f-holes, Elizaveta turned a latch, and pulled her bow free from its bindings inside the case.

She hurriedly affixed her shoulder rest, grabbed her sheet music, and trailed onstage with the others. For a moment, she was slightly alarmed to see the number of people there, but reminded herself that, had this been a professional orchestra, there would be far more. In fact, there looked to be just under twenty.

The young woman frowned, wondering where to sit, then looked over as a friendly-looking man beckoned her over, also holding what looked to be a violin against his shoulder.

"You're our new violinist, right?" he said brightly, motioning to the chair beside him, the second one in from the edge of the stage (in the front row, no less). At her nod, he continued, "I'm Toris. Toris Laurinaitis, the first chair second violin. It's a pleasure to meet you." He seemed friendly enough, Elizaveta noted. Maybe things wouldn't be as bad as she had thought, after all. Toris looked as if he were going to say something more, but someone cleared their throat loudly, and everyone's heads turned to look at the front of the stage, where Roderich stood in front of a music stand.

Satisfied that he had their attention, the director looked up from his scores that were laid out neatly before him, taking in what he saw. With another, smaller cough, he said, "I'm glad to see you all back for another season. I was afraid that my becoming director might drive you away…but perhaps I was mistaken." His statement was greeted by a smattering of chuckles from several of the players, and he smiled.

"I'm sorry that I won't be able to play with you any more, but I look forward to conducting several pieces for you all. I hope you find them both as fascinating and exciting as I have, since these are by some of the greatest composers of this age." With that, he shuffled his scores, and instructed, "Take out the Mendelssohn Trumpet Overture first, and let's see how you can read through it."

Instantly, the scraping of chairs could be heard against the dusty wooden floor as one stand partner or the other leaned forward to pull the concerto out from under the other pieces, then scooted back into place. Elizaveta looked nervously around – her stand partner was no where in sight, and save for Toris, she was the only violinist there…so far, at least.

With a resigned look back toward the auditorium doors on the side, she leaned forward, and unfolded the Mendelssohn Overture. She was about to look over it, when Roderich turned and glanced at her.

"Is your instrument in tune?" he asked smoothly, purely professional now. Shakily, she nodded, barely having time to wonder where his friendly and cheerful countenance went, before he motioned for her to stand.

Gulping, Elizaveta hastily tried to recall how she had seen her teacher do it, once, when she had sat in on one of his orchestra practices. So, trying not to knock anything over, she pointed with her bow to the sole oboist, who looked at her curiously from under his…(it was a he, right?) curtain of wavy blonde hair, but played an A, and tuned the wind and brass sections.

When she was sure her violin was at least relatively in tune, Elizaveta raised it to her chin, and played her A. When no one did anything, she felt a slight rush of panic, but it was quelled almost immediately when Toris followed suit, and the rest of the strings…well, the other two or so.

Seemingly satisfied, Roderich stood a bit straighter, and raised his conductor's baton. Hastily, Elizaveta reassumed her seat, blushing as he glanced at her, then back at the orchestra. She barely had a chance to look at the page, before she watched the Austrian man give them a measure, and they were off.

About half an hour later, Elizaveta folded up the music, generally in good spirits. Albeit a bit confused, but feeling eager to play more. The overture had ended up being a rousing piece, and had set her slightly at ease, despite the large number of notes that she was sure she had played wrong. Flipping through the other pieces that had been handed out, her gaze fell on the Hanson symphony again. It had three flats, and some of the notes looked as if she'd be nosebleeding from the altitude, for they reached far up beyond the normal staff lines. As she was wondering if she'd half-enjoy playing it, Toris leaned over.

"You play wonderfully!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining. Startled, Elizaveta jumped slightly, as the other orchestra members lapsed into talk around them.

"Th-thank you," she responded, flushing slightly and setting her bow on the stand. "But I'm not that good…I'd like to get even better," she finished hesitantly, as if searching for something else to say. However, Roderich shook his head at her words, leaning over from where he stood.

"What Toris said was true," he remarked quietly. "You've got quite a talent there." Subsequently, she turned even redder, feeling suddenly warm in the relatively cool auditorium. Almost inaudibly, Elizaveta squeaked out a thank you, and barely had time to wonder why she was so flustered all of a sudden before the side doors burst open once more with a _bang!_ and two more carrying instrument cases rushed in, one with ponytails flying and the other chatting away to her happily, what looked to be a violin slung across his back.

"Who…?" the Hungarian girl wondered aloud, and Toris just shook his head with a smile. "Trust Feliciano and Angelique to be late, as always."


	4. Movement 4

**A/N: I'm so sorry about not updating! Things have been crazy lately, but I won't bore you with that. To all of my regular-ish readers, I greatly appreciate the reviews and reading! Slowly I'll try to make the chapters longer….I also would have gotten this up sooner, but FF wouldn't let me edit the story, so I had to stick it out until it was back online.  
**

**Music guide at the end for those readers who don't know some of the terms used.**

"Trust Feliciano and Angelique to be late, as always."

No sooner were the words out of Toris' mouth, when the red-haired man bounded up onto the stage after hurriedly unpacking his violin, and taking a seat next to the aforementioned man. He grinned at Toris, eyes glowing, then spotted Elizaveta and waved, smiling even more broadly.

"Ve! You must be the new girl, right? Wow, you're so pretty! I hope you like it here; I know I do. Even better, though, is pasta – but I guess orchestra is almost as good. It's –" he was cut off by a glance from Roderich, though the corners of his mouth were turned up in a slight smile. Much more slowly, the darker-skinned brunette who had accompanied the man, whom Elizaveta assumed to be Feliciano, took the chair next to the Hungarian girl. Her dark bangs hid her face, but she brushed them out of the way to reveal a sunny smile – almost as sunny as Feliciano's.

"Hi there," she said, apparently trying to keep quiet as Roderich shuffled his music on his stand, and sorted through it while he decided what they were going to read through next. Glancing up at him, then back at Elizaveta, she tossed her ponytails over her shoulder. "The name's Angelique, though a lot of people call me 'Chelles – it's short for Seychelles, which is where I was born." She made a face, but her eyes were still bright as the director cleared his throat loudly, for the second time that night.

"All right everyone. Now that we're all here…or close to it, would you kindly unfold your copies of the Hanson symphony? It's already fairly late, and I don't want to keep any of you here longer than needed, since I think the snow will be starting again soon."

With a start, Elizaveta glanced at her watch. Was it already 8:30? But that would mean that an hour had passed since the rehearsal started! Either her sense of time was going haywire, or Roderich had made an extremely late start, for it certainly hadn't felt like an hour. With a resigned look at her watch, she unfolded the symphony requested, and exchanged a look with Angelique.

"What do you think?" she asked quietly, while Roderich was telling something to their sole violist and cellist. "About the piece, I mean," the Hungarian girl added hastily at the other's confused expression.

"Oh…right. I think it looks really interesting, actually," Angelique replied, frowning at the notes on the page. "And I've never played it before, not even in music school. So I'm looking forward to it," she finished, grinning. Impressed, Elizaveta gave her a quick smile, before she heard Roderich rap loudly on his stand, and raise his arms back into position.

With no more time for talking, both girls instead settled their instruments under their respective chins, and as soon as the piece was started, they played.

Immediately, Elizaveta was immersed in the slowness of the music, and the delicate chords which rang between the sections. While the brass instruments crooned gentle, wavering flats, the others slowly joined, until the orchestra reached a slow, deliberate crescendo. She found herself playing higher notes than she had in a long time, but very controlled, and relaxed as she watched Roderich cue them for a ritard, then a slight accelerando and into a new time signature.

After another page of tense, fast-paced tremolo, the music slowed, their sole oboe's voice ringing out above all of the others, until the strings joined once more and created a smooth, and, in Elizaveta's opinion, slightly nostalgic melody which sent her heart pounding. Again, it was repeated, until it grew more intense, then relaxed. All the while she watched Roderich, his violet eyes intense behind his slim-framed glasses as he studied his score and the group of musicians before him, conducting with both passion and grace as he led them through page upon page of flats, sharps and slurs.

The meter changed once more, and sent the strings to the forefront of the group to establish a new melody, each note more delicate and beautiful than the last. It ran from section to section, reaching its climax as the brass joined in, then repeating, but in a more studious and forceful manner this time.

Over and over, bit by bit, the symphony changed course, different voices fading in and out. It was almost like walking in a dream Elizaveta thought, her bow moving languidly across the strings of her violin, while her hand stretched to reach the notes in eighth position that she was sure she missed. But it didn't matter – all that mattered right now was the music that surrounded her, from the woodwinds, strings, and brass, and even from Roderich himself as he brought the music over the top of another crescendo, and into a key change.

After a gentle repeat of an earlier theme by the violins, everything grew quiet with a diminuendo until the sole cellist played one last long note, and let it echo into silence. Elizaveta found herself on the edge of her chair, breath pent-up until she exhaled suddenly. Angelique watched her curiously for a moment before quirking a grin.

"So, you're enraptured, and that was only the first movement, huh?" she asked teasingly, her hazel eyes sparkling. The Hungarian girl barely managed a nod, before she watched Roderich fold over his score, and signal to the players that they were about to start once more.

So began the second movement of the Hanson symphony, which was slightly more upbeat than the first, and a bit faster. It had a very positive spin to it, thought Elizaveta, not even trying to keep track of where her fingers pressed against the fingerboard. The notes flew by, as had those of the andante movement, and fairly soon they were almost the whole way down the single page, with little more than a few measures left.

Soon enough, the movement ended altogether, but that wasn't an excuse for respite. Stoically, as he had done so the whole rehearsal, Roderich kept them moving right along to the third, allegro movement of the Hanson symphony, which they tore right into.

It had an incredibly different feel from the first two movements, right from the first few measures which were very short and deliberate playing-wise. Soon enough, however, the orchestra had sunk back into a smoother, steadier tempo like before. Within a few short minutes, the entire piece was over, after a small solo from Angelique and Toris.

Elizaveta released the breath that she realized she had been holding for the last few measures, and sat back, marveling that it was over already. She could hear Roderich saying something, but even his voice didn't particularly interest her right now, as the music just had. Looking around, she saw Angelique smile, and Toris give her a wink, then stand, and fold his music into a portfolio.

"Where are you…?" she started, but then saw him smile.

"Well, Roderich said we're free to leave, so I was going to get on home. It's pretty late, anyhow…almost nine-thirty. I'd recommend you do the same, since I know we all have things to do tomorrow," he said, then collected his things and trotted off of the stage, back to where his instrument case was. All around her, Elizaveta could see everyone else doing the same thing, a dull murmur of conversation building up once more as her fellow musicians prepared to head home.

Almost in a trance-like state, she stood, and followed the rest off stage, back to where her violin case was sitting. Gently, she tucked her violin back into the velvet setting, its crimson hue accenting the fine woodwork. After cleaning off all of the rosin dust that had found its way onto her instrument, Elizaveta slid her bow back into its holder, put away her cleaning cloth, and shut the case with a dull _click_.

Many people had already left, and most of those left were about to. Smiling slightly, she gave a little wave to Alfred (and Arthur, it seemed), who were already headed out the door. In-between continued bickering, they both found time to return the gesture before heading for home. With a "good bye" and a grin, both Toris and Angelique, along with Feliciano were gone as well. Roderich, as well, was no where to be seen, to her growing disappointment. _Until next week_, she reminded herself, then shrugged on her thick woolen coat, and hoisted her case back onto her shoulder for the brisk walk back to her apartment (which was probably almost as cold as the outdoors by now with the electric heater turned off).

Shielding her face against the cold, the Hungarian stood with her back to the wind, and shrugged her collar up about her face more snugly. She had taken no more than two steps when a voice stopped her.

"Miss Elizaveta, I believe you're forgetting something?" the dark-haired man proffered, his own coat clutched tightly to him by one slender hand. In the other, she realized, was a stack of sheet music, which she recognized immediately to be her own.

"Ah – y-yes! Thank you," she replied hastily, reaching out and taking the well-worn sheets of paper from Roderich. With the customary slight smile that she had begun to expect, he gave a wave with an utterance of "good night", and trudged off in the opposite direction, his boots barely making any noise against the snow that had built up during their rehearsal.

Despite the cold, Elizaveta felt quite warm, and upon realizing that she was blushing quite profusely she clapped a hand to her cheek.

"I have no reason to blush," she murmured, almost sullenly as she watched Roderich's retreating figure. Though as he disappeared into the snow, which was picking up, Elizaveta began to feel the tiniest inkling of doubt on that matter.

* * *

**Glossary of terms:**

(Most of you reading this will probably know these, but just in case.)

**Crescendo** – a steady increase of volume in the music.

**Ritard **– a slowing of the music, according to the conductor's signal.

**Accelerando** – a gradual quickening of the music, also according to the conductor's signal.

**Tremolo** – what it sounds like; literally a "trembling" of the notes. A technique used mainly among string instruments in which the player moves his or her bow rapidly back and forth to create a quavering sound.

**Diminuendo/Decrescendo** – a steady decrease of volume in the music.

**Movement** – a "piece" of a piece of music. (Ha. Like how I did that?) Mostly used with longer pieces, i.e. over one page. Usually the melody/theme changes slightly between movements, along with a possible key and/or time signature change.

**Time Signature** – a marking that indicates the number of beats per measure of music.

**Andante** – slow tempo marking; "walking pace".

**Moderato** – medium tempo marking; "jogging pace".

**Allegro/Presto** – fast tempo marking; "running pace".

**Wow, that was a lot of music description...**.


	5. Movement 5

**A/N: Sorry about the last chapter; I'll try to do either weekly or bi-weekly updates again, but we'll see how that goes…if anyone want to suggest a profession for Miss Elizaveta, by the way, I'd be happy to take suggestions. And so the rivalry begins…I now have a very, **_**very **_**grudging respect for Prussia/Hungary. And I had a lot of fun writing him, too…but don't anyone think I'm changing the story or main pairing one bit! Enjoy!**

**Note: the rating will be changed to T, but I'm unable to edit the properties currently, so until that magical day...**

With a sigh, Elizaveta looked out from her third-story apartment window, watching the snow fill the streets beyond. Her small kitchen table was happily situated near said window, and afforded quite a lovely view of the skyscrapers that towered over the city. If she looked hard enough, she could glimpse a streak of the sluggish river beyond the jumble of buildings below, and judging by its color today she knew that it was at least partially frozen.

She clutched a steaming mug of tea, blanket tightly wrapped around her shoulders to keep out any cold that could have made its way into her snug little abode, and after taking a sip set it down on the table before her. Earlier that morning her boss had called, reassuring her that work was not an option today due to all the snow, and that most of the city was shut down anyhow, so she needn't trouble herself by coming in. Of course, the call had come in around six-thirty, _after_ she had woken up, showered, eaten a quick breakfast, and bundled herself in sweaters and coats alike, only to pause by the door and have the phone ring.

But nevertheless, Elizaveta was not one to complain. At least she hadn't been walking out in the cold, only to find that she hadn't had to go to work after all. Taking a sip of her tea, she turned towards the window, watching the steam from her mug frost the glass. The snow had started to die down a little, but there were still few cars on the roads, and even fewer pedestrians hurrying from place to place, tugging scarves and hats into place as they went.

Looking back at her mug of tea, Elizaveta drained it, and reluctantly got up, knowing that she couldn't sit there doing nothing all day. After taking her mug to the sink (and resolving to get to work on the pile of dishes that had accumulated there…later), she began to ponder what sort of things she could do to pass the time. There were, of course, always the mundane things like cleaning, but she quickly pushed that thought out of her mind with an imaginary growl.

_I don't really want to be doing boring things all day,_ the young woman thought to herself, glancing up at the clock which hung just to the right of the window. It was only noon; there was still plenty that could be accomplished in the hours that followed. Elizaveta sat down at her window seat once more, hands folded in thought. She looked up with a start as the table shook, but it was only her cat, Sandor, who had decided to jump up and sit by her.

"What _are_ you doing?" Elizaveta questioned him, scratching the animal behind his fluffy orange-and-white ears. With a fishy-smelling yawn, he blinked at her expectantly, as if to say, "well, what are _you_ doing?" before curling up and closing his eyes. He opened one a crack so that it was a tiny green slit as she continued to stroke his back, then sat up, thoroughly bored with the whole matter. Flagging his tail, Sandor jumped down, landing just shy of a small stack of books that, as the Hungarian girl reflected, had to be returned to the library.

_Ah, so that's what I can do today._ Smiling, Elizaveta got up and called after the cat, "you're a smart cat, you know that?" No matter the weather, the Main Street library was always open, as she had found on countless occasions, even in the thick of a snowstorm such as this one.

The young woman wrapped a thick scarf about her neck before pulling on her heaviest winter coat for the second time that day, and grabbing mittens and a hat, began to pile the books into the bag that had been hanging on the door to the apartment hallway. Satisfied that she had collected all of her books, Elizaveta unlocked the door, and stepped out into the hallway, which already was noticeably chillier than her snug apartment. She shut the door and locked it, stuffing her house keys into her pocket before trotting down the hallway to the elevator. It looked as if every other tenant was thinking along the lines of staying inside, for there was no one in the elevator, or lobby as she approached the ground floor.

The bitter wind stung Elizaveta's face as she pushed the front door open, and she pulled her scarf closer to her nose, reflecting that it might not have been such a good idea to come outside after all. Nevertheless, she trudged through the snow, noting that although the falling snow had died down to little more than a flurry, the wind was still relentless and tossed up walls of icy crystals that flung themselves at anyone who passed.

She bit her lip and came to a halt at the intersection, barely able to see the traffic light for all of the snow that was piled on top of it. As the light changed to faded green, Elizaveta continued forward, almost not bothering to look for cars, as no one was really crazy enough to be out on a day like this…well, except herself, of course.

Another two blocks later, sure enough, the library's neon sign was blinking forlornly in the cold, and Elizaveta smiled at the familiar sight. She had been right; the library was indeed always open. Pushing open one of the double glass doors, she let it slam behind her as she dashed in, thankful to be out of the ice and snow at last. The Hungarian girl winced at the snow that clung to her pant legs and boots, and did her best to kick it off before heading through the second set of doors and into the warmth of the library.

She smiled at the librarian at the counter before emptying her book bag into the "returns" slot in one side of the counter, unwrapping her scarf a little as she went.

_I could go for a murder mystery right about now,_ Elizaveta decided, eyes flicking about the shelves for the fiction section. Almost immediately she found it, having been there many times before, and regarded the call numbers on the spines of the worn books, crouching to get a better look at the volumes lower down.

With a slight frown, Elizaveta murmured, "they're not here. I wonder if the section's been moved…?" Standing, she dusted off her knees before rounding the corner, only to come face to face with a pair of scarlet eyes.

"You!" the eyes exclaimed – or, well, rather the owner of the eyes exclaimed instead. Something clicked in recognition at the man's voice, and the young woman inhaled sharply.

"You're that…that guy from before!" she squeaked, quieting when she received a glare from the one or two people that had settled down at various tables to read their respective books. "G…Gilbert…right?"

He nodded, shifting slightly to balance the stack of books that he had been carrying, and giving up, set them down on the shelving cart only a few feet behind him. With a flick of his silver hair, Gilbert frowned.

"You're either awfully brave, or awfully crazy to be out and about with weather like this. What's up, didn't want to be sitting at home or something?" he asked, expression unreadable as he regarded Elizaveta. Not wanting to admit that indeed, those were her thoughts, she shook her head for some reason.

"I…er, had an overdue book. And I thought it would be best to return it today, if the library were open," she lied, trying her best to look guilty. If it didn't work, Gilbert didn't let on, because he laughed quietly.

"I didn't think you'd be the type to let a book get overdue, but I guess it happens to everyone," he mused, picking up one of the books on the cart and slipping it into its spot on one of the shelves. After a pause, Elizaveta glanced at him inquiringly.

"Well, what about you? I didn't think a library would really be a place that you would hang around," she challenged, inwardly rolling her eyes, both at his apparent condescension, and at the fact that this conversation seemed to be going the way of her one-sided conversation with Sandor.

Blowing the dust off of one of the book jackets, Gilbert shrugged. "As a favor to Roderich, I promised him I would keep myself out of trouble, so I applied for a job here. I figured all of these books were good enough company for me, and would give me something to do. Though they can't beat Gilbird," he said, a small smile lighting up his face. To herself, Elizaveta thought that he looked far nicer when he did that, and was about to ask about the so-called 'Gilbird', when Gilbert explained.

"He's my canary. I've had him for a while, and he keeps me company usually."

"Why the name Gilbird?"

"Well, I'm awesome. So I figured I'd name him after me, though Gilbert didn't make much sense. So I called him Gil_bird_ instead. Pretty awesome, huh?" he added, in way of explanation, with a smirk.

This time Elizaveta really did roll her eyes. _Great, not only is he rude, but he's also narcissistic,_ she thought, quickly turning the other way and stifling a laugh, to her surprise. Gilbert also, it seemed, was funny – in a way, at least.

"I…think I'll find a book now," she said slowly, trying not to look at him. _Well, who wouldn't be unnerved by a guy with red eyes?_ Elizaveta's own green eyes wandered the shelves, before she swooped down and plucked a book from its spot, immediately opening it to read the plot summary on the flap.

"Well, whatever," Gilbert muttered, still apparently trying to shelve what was left on the cart. "Just don't get in the way, okay?" Before Elizaveta had a chance to protest, he had turned his back on her, wandering down the aisle to check the call numbers of the section he was, presumably, shelving.

Within fifteen minutes, both Gilbert and Elizaveta had finished their respective tasks, her with a bagful of what she was sure were exciting novels, and him with an empty cart. An awkward silence had presented itself, and the Hungarian woman asked delicately, "so…I hear you're a musician, too?"

A noncommittal jerk of the head and noise of affirmation were all she got in reply, but still she pressed on.

"Well…what do you play, then?" With an annoyed look, Gilbert sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm a violist, actually," he replied quietly, for the first time looking the slightest bit sincere. At Elizaveta's curious gaze, however, he immediately bristled once more.

"It's not a big deal, or anything! Stop looking at me like that."

"Well, if you're as good as Roderich said you were," the young woman started, recalling their brief conversation a few nights before, "then why don't you play with our – er, his orchestra? I didn't see any violists there." Mentally, she reprimanded herself sternly. After all, she had only been to one rehearsal, and Roderich was the director, after all. A hollow laugh from Gilbert brought her out of her thoughts.

"Me, play with _you_ guys? Not on your life," he chuckled, his eyes growing serious. "Besides, I doubt Roddy would want me there anyway." Looking down, he scrubbed at the back of his neck with a hand, then glanced up, narrowing his crimson eyes when he saw Elizaveta still watching him.

"What? What is it now?" he asked, and she almost laughed at his expression, which was almost pout-like.

"Are you afraid that you're not good enough to play with us, per chance?" the Hungarian girl asked, a small smile touching her lips. "Are you scared that, perhaps you'd be intimidated by all of the excellent players?" Knowing she had touched a nerve, Elizaveta laughed inwardly at Gilbert's thunderous glare.

"The hell I am! Why would I be scared to play with a bunch of wimps?" Although she winced at the insult, presumably because she was one of those 'wimps', the young woman's green eyes sparkled with challenge.

"Prove it, then," she retaliated, almost in a teasing manner. "If you're not too chicken, that is."

"Why don't I, then?" Gilbert asked, striding over to look her in the eyes. Before she could fathom how close he was, the German leaned back easily and added, "you've got yourself a deal, Elizaveta." With a blush, she looked down. _How does he…know my name?_

But then Gilbert laughed, and had already started to walk away, pushing the shelving cart back to its rightful place in the corner of the library. With a casual wave, he said, "well, I'll see you losers next Monday, then. You'd better be prepared for all of the awesome!"

And with that, he was gone. Looking up huffily, Elizaveta turned on her heel, drawing out her wallet in search of her library card as she approached the front desk to check out her books.

_That…that insufferable, egotistical, arrogant jerk! Just who does he think he is?_ As she handed her books and card to the librarian at the desk, the young woman frowned, tucking a strand of light brown hair behind her ear. And just what had she gotten herself, and the orchestra into?

Well, there was at least the guarantee of a violist, however insufferable he may have been. Score one for Elizaveta.


End file.
